


Spade Battery

by OhmieBunnerz



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Courage, Death, Developing Friendships, F/M, Gore, Hardware Store, Heroes and Villains, Horror, I did my best, Insanity, Kidnapping, M/M, Mostly In Character, Murder, Mystery, No Smut, PTSD, Tags Are Fun, Tyler is angry, Winter, Zero to Hero, im not sure, sads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhmieBunnerz/pseuds/OhmieBunnerz
Summary: The cold settles in as does ill intentions, and these walls won't keep the frigid winter out. Words are like playing cards, set out to win the most points, and everyone is playing for keeps. Funny how the playing ground is in the isolated hardware store, and no one knows they're in a game. Old and new relations are all that bind the group as the darkness settles in around them.Learn about John's green thumb, Tyler's ability to withstand customers, and how Brian's phone likes to go off at the wrong time.
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

Blue lights on the holiday rope reflects within glassy orbs. It isn’t much to admire, not when the body refuses to even twitch. He may have choked him out too fast, resulting in this stagnant ornament. At least he’s pretty, a little beacon for someone to find.

He reaches out to touch the man’s face. The chin is touching collarbone, teeth touching thigh. The head has been taken apart as it should be, leaving a sloppy tongue for him to grab onto and yank forward. The body follows behind him as well as the screams of children, the young ones huddled in the corner.

He never looks in their direction, not a hair touched. They went there on their own from the moment he first clubbed their mother with the Santa doorstopper. Her crunched cranium made finishing her off quite easy, so he left her to go after the husband. Only once he’s sealed home as their resting place did he truly take his time. 

The husband is dragged outside by his tongue. The top half of his head remains with the children, eyes wide open for his eyelids are in his wife’s ruptured stomach. The floor is gray and cold. Unmoving. Silent besides for children crying.

Two hundred pounds of dripping flesh is hung as a wreath to his red front door. Twinkly white and green lights shine in the dark blood, lighting his leveled breathing, fog leaving his lips. It’s a cold night, so he heads back inside for a suitable look. He picks a green puff jacket off the hook, looks it over, drops it, and goes for a black leather option. Slipped on, it’s warm, so he finds a matching toque and red leather gloves. They’re tight, but stretch comfortably with a fist.

He looks into the living room where he knows the children remain. He steps in, their fear spiking, only for him to pick up their father’s skull. Still, he leaves the children be as he works. Furniture creaks, clothing shifts, and items taken. The children are left traumatized and surrounded by items they have no concept of.

On the way to the door, he looks over at them, a phone in hand. The glow of the landline coats his frown as he says _“There’s been an accident in Fairview Court. Hurry over.”_

* * *

**This is only a prologue to help set a sorta warning for you readers. This story will be quite violent in later chapters, and plus who doesn't like a creepy intro?**


	2. Work Day Over

Tyler’s motivation to work revolves solely around the clock. He keeps eyeing it like a scorned lover, wondering if he could just leave. All he’d need to do is go out that giant door meant for loading up customer trucks. He can sometimes feel the cold rush of fresh air when someone opens up the short bay leading to the parking lot. Stepping out and never coming back though would blacklist him in the small city, leading to any even shorter spending budget this month.

“What are you looking at?”

Tyler perks up, but frowns once again when he sees who it is. His coworker, Nogla, the most obnoxious, curious, persistent bastard there is. The only thing the guy has going for him is the fantastic smelling lunches he brings to work everyday. “Just piss off and bother a customer already, Nogla. You slacking off is exactly the reason people complain there’s nobody around when they need them.”

Nogla waves it off with a grin under his beard. “You’re funny, buddy. You act like Brian isn’t employee of the month every month because he makes rounds in every department.”

He scoffs and looks over at the register next to him. “Stop relying on others to get you by, dumbass. That’s how you get fired.”

“Nah, I just owe him is a favor is all. Think of it this way, the more he runs aroun’, the more exercise he gettin’. I can argue that when his sexy ass comes complainin’.” Nogla leans over the worn counter, grin crooked like his soul. “Also, one could call it teamwork. I’d come to your rescue if you needed me, you know.”

Tyler’s blue eyes narrow and he reaches out, shoving Nogla away. “Get out of here before I break your head across the counter.”

“Oh, I know you love me. You just have a funny way of showing it, buddy.”

Tyler breathes a sigh of relief when Nogla in his stupid orange apron disappears down an aisle. Thank god, cause he really was contemplating hurting the guy.

Working in a hardware store isn’t too bad. It’s not too busy in the industrial sector. Many people don’t even know this store exists. They think it’s for work only, like machinists, welders, and auto factories. This fact makes it easy for Tyler to calculate his next meal and what movie to watch later, but it can be awfully boring at times. He wants to do something so badly, and his hand itches when all he can do is ring up someone’s order for circular saw blades, electric cable, and a crowbar. Tyler yawns and says the price total, contemplating Bepis or Cola Coca in the vending machine. He can see the machine coaxing him from over the customer’s shoulder. Some bills and change handed back later, he mindlessly heads for the machine. He’ll make up for the lost money at the end of his shift, something he’s done before, so he doesn’t care about the customer’s confusion as he passes him. The guy probably expected him to place the money in the cashier. Can’t blame him.

Bepis for sure. The blue can clunks it’s way down the vending machine and into its lit bin at the bottom. The snap of a tab, some bubbles, a sweet burn down the throat, and Tyler turns back to his station, the customer thankfully gone. 

Back at the cash, he’s disappointed to find himself bored again. Is he gonna have to snatch another sugary treat to entertain himself? Tyler decides rather on his phone, so he offers himself a five minute break so he can get his phone from the employee lockers. On the way, he passes a kid with a cartful of Christmas ornaments. “I’ll meet you at the cash in a minute, kid.”

“I’m twenty-three.” The kid- no, man, looks up at him, both shocked and amused at Tyler’s statement. “And it’s cool. I’ll be around when you get back.”

A quick nod and Tyler speeds his walk, not a hard task when he’s six foot five. The trip that would take his coworkers forever only takes him a minute. Through the break room and around the doorway, he goes down the short hall full of lockers. He pops open his locker and leans in for his phone, but notices it ain’t there. Shit. He left it in the car again… which isn’t here.

Tyler doesn’t drive himself these days. Brock, the amazing guy he is, has been so nice as to drive him and Brian around. Yep, Brain is a tad bit of a freeloader too, but that’s cause he’s saving up for a wedding ring. He promises to get an SUV (nothing else) the first chance he can.

“Slacking off?”

“Jesus, John!” Tyler whips his empty can in his coworker’s direction, scowling. John merely glances at it, completely bored. “First Nogla, and now you? I didn’t even see you when I came in… where did you come from?”

“Your asshole. Nah, just dropped a massive shit in the bathroom. Toilet paper is free here and I ain’t got none at home.”

Tyler slams his locker shut. “Tell me you at least washed your hands.”

“Of course. I’m no caveman. Just don’t tell Admiral Brian I took a roll for home.” John steps back as his coworker passes him at the door. “You cool? You look out of it.”

“Just want to go home. Is everyone out of here yet?”

“Wouldn’t know. I was in the bathroom.” John shrugs and sits down at the small round table, leaning forward, hands on his knees. Tyler locks in on the many heavy rings he wears, and John says sheepishly. “I know I shouldn’t have them on, but they make me happy.”

“Happy? What about safe? You could get gloved when you least expect it. You feel like going to the hospital on company time? You could be denied benefits if they found out how it happened.”

“That’s why I work in the garden department. Nothing bad ever happens there.”

Tyler laughs, the sound loud, chest rumbling. “Hilarious. I can think of my top ten reasons I could kill you there. There’s a step stone to the skull, lawnmower to the face, garden shears through the chest-”

John smirks, blue eyes twinkling. “Stop stop. You’ll make me blush with all the dirty talk, daddy. Wait, where ya goin’? I thought we were heading to second base.”

It’s best to ignore his coworkers when they start to joke around and get friendly. Tyler doesn’t exactly want to become friends with these weirdos. Especially John. The guy is a loose cannon, and always ready to do something crazy. Last week, Tyler caught John on the news for stealing an iguana, going to a bar, and buying everyone drinks… using the iguana as payment. Surprisingly, he got away with his crime cause no one found out who it was who stole the iguana. Only the bartender got in shit cause, well, everyone got free drinks and bragged about it after. Fair to say that bar won’t be opening back up for a while.

Tyler heads out front, realizing now he’s left that baby faced guy at the front. Sure, he said not to worry, but Tyler isn’t supposed to leave the front unattended.

“And here you go, sir. Have a good one.” Brian hands over the last of the reusable bags to the customer, smiling like the cheerful Irish bastard he is. That is, until the customer turns his back to them and heads to the double doors. Then Brian’s attention snaps to Tyler, blue eyes just as sharp as Tyler’s. “There you are. Finally. I know you wanna suck dick in the storage room, but I need you up here, dickhead.”

Tyler shoves both hands in his apron pocket, fiddling with a pen. “Yeah, I’m sure you do, but someone caught me. They wanted to know where our rain barrels were.”

“That’s John’s department. Don’t tell me he’s contemplating some bullshit scheme in the break room again.” Brian rounds the counter, palm flat on the surface. “He can’t hide there every time it gets close to closing. Guess that shows I can’t trust him to close up ever.” A sigh. “Whatever. Tyler, can you stay up here? Make the announcement and I’ll round everyone up.”

A mocking salute and he takes position. “Right away, Captain. Hey, Brock message you when he’s coming over?”

“Oh shit, I forgot to check. Yeah, it looks like… Yep, Brock’s outside already.” Tyler grins, and Brian points at him before he can even do it. “Don’t even.”

“What?”

“You were gonna call him an early bird again. I’m sick of hearing that. Just shut up and do your job, man.” Brian leaves shortly after that, leaving Tyler alone… again. He seems to keep running into these short encounters that lead to nothing. Why? Is something supposed to come of them? Is Tyler throwing away moments of personal growth and happiness? Or is he avoiding trouble?

He shakes his head and scolds himself under his breath. He needs to stop himself from being so stupid and letting his mind trail off like that. Maybe he should’ve taken that barista job at Starbucks on the corner. Maybe then he would be too busy to notice his inner demons bothering him.

A customer comes up, arms full because he refused to get a basket or cart. “Hey, man. Don’t mind me. I’m not too late, right?”

Tyler stops himself from grinning. “If you were late, would we kick you out, not allowing you to buy stuff? Nah, never. You’re good.” He rings up some extension cords, outlet plate covers, and a wood axe. “So, are you doing construction or destruction?”

“Huh? Oh, a mix. Just wood cutting and redoing the bedroom. Nothing fancy.” The man looks around, and that’s when Tyler recognizes him.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“What?” Shocked, the guy looks back.

Tyler puts everything in a bag. “Yeah, you’re friends with Marcel. He isn’t in today, if that’s who you’re looking for.” He hands over the bag. “Maybe he’ll be in tomorrow.”

“No, it isn’t that, but thank you.” The stranger, who’s name slipped Tyler’s mind, heads for the door after a quick debit tap.

The encounter still bothers Tyler after the guy leaves. This is what he was thinking about before. “Dumbass talks. Everyone should just shut the fuck up,” he mutters to himself.

The shift ends peacefully, announcement made over the speaker to get the fuck out (swears excluded sadly). Brian, John, and Tyler get their shit and head out, Brian locking up. They bundle deep in their coats, John making his way for the gate as Brian and Tyler walk up to Brock’s car. As John passes Brock, the man standing just outside his car, Brock mentions “Pretty reflective coat there, John. Hoping to catch a boyfriend with that?”

John smirks back, eyelids droopy like the slacker he appears to be. “Helps your mom see me on the highway when she wants a ride.” Brock is confused long enough for him to walk off, vibe casual despite his words. He just doesn’t care about insulting others. That’s one thing Tyler secretly respects about the guy - his courage … or is it just stupidity? Not wanting any new friends or not, Tyler isn’t blind to how different John is.

Brock turns back to his friends, eyebrows risen. “I sure hope he doesn’t have a family that has to hear that dirty mouth on the regular.”

Brian grins, opening up the passenger side. “Fuck, imagine living with that guy.”

Brock has to ask again as he slips in behind the wheel, Tyler climbing in back. “Does he live with anyone?”

“Not that we know of,” Tyler says, seatbelt clicked in. “He’s a real loner type. So, can you take us home, or are you picking up John for twenty bucks?”

“Hardy har har. He’s not my type.”

Brian chokes on laughter. “I didn’t expect that outta ya, Brocky. What if he was your type? What then?”

But Brock is looking in the rearview mirror, concerned, and ignoring Brian. “Wait, does he not have a car? It’s minus twenty out. He can’t be walking home.”

Brain says “He takes the bus at the highway. He hasn’t complained about it once, so I’m sure he doesn’t mind. Let’s head out. I got takeout leftovers waiting for me.”

Tyler leans back in his seat, tired eyes cast to the inky night and tiny snowflakes landing on the glass. He yawns and stretches. Bones pop in his lower back, a common occurrence for people his height. Feet ache from the long shift, head heavy from stress, and stomach needing late night bagel and cream cheese. Shit, that sounds good right now.

They pass by John, the man sending a lazy wave as he passes through the open gate. He closes up, and Brock stops for a moment so Brian can pass the keys over. Locked up, the keys are tossed back and the car drives off.

John pauses in the crunchy snow, cowboy boots not equipped for the winter chill, and looks back at the building. It’s nothing fancy, so it isn’t like he’s impressed, but he always feels comforted when he leaves. Something about this place, despite being here over a year, his insides still ache.

Something… he just can’t place his finger on.

* * *

The story has just begun, and I'm having fun writing it. Hope to continue this considering school is so... confusing right now. Writing helps me relax and be happy. Dare I say I want to be an author when I'm older :D Hope you enjoy so far!!


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